


Requiem Ex Animo

by virgin_storymaker



Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9168760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgin_storymaker/pseuds/virgin_storymaker
Summary: In a dystopian world where emotion is outlawed, there are talks of a resistance growing within the heart of Los Angeles, and a plot to rebel against the capital. Officer Blake Shelton is determined to put a stop to the rebellion before it even begins, and he already has a suspect…





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first extended Shevine fic, and I don't really have much experience in writing something where I have a more detailed plot line, but I do have an idea in my mind of where I want this story (which is of course fictional!) to go. So, I'm sorry in advance because it won't be perfect, but I hope you give it a go and I hope you like it...
> 
> In summary, the story is set in a world where LA has been established by the survivors of World War III as the new capital of America. Citizens are required to take daily injections of "Prozium II" to suppress emotion and encourage obedience. All emotionally stimulating material has been banned, and "Sense Offenders" – those who fail to take their Prozium – are put to death, as the government claims that the cause of all wars and violence is emotion.
> 
> This story is inspired by a film I saw called 'Equilibrium', but the plot and- of course- the characters are all different, I just borrowed the basic concepts.

“Any last words?”

The girl looked up. “Freedom is feeling!” she shouted, her voice echoing loudly around the room.

Blake stared at her through the small, circular window in the door. He stared into her eyes, and saw anger, pride, hatred, fear. So many emotions, as clear as day. He was very good at recognising them now: after over ten years of capturing and executing Sense Offenders, he found they always looked the same in their final moments. They always _felt_ the same way.

The echoes of her voice had barely faded to silence before she burst into flames, the panel above the door that read ‘INCINERATION CHAMBER’ flashing brightly. Now it was her screams that resonated across the walls and blared through the monitor.

Blake was unable to tear his eyes away from the fire that raged on, swallowing the girl whole so that she was no longer visible, and probably no longer there, considering the screams had already stopped. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, perfectly straight, unblinking. As usual, he felt nothing.

“She was my one-hundredth arrest,” a voice said behind him, and Blake turned to see a rather tall woman walking towards him. She wore black combat trousers and boots, the LAPD badge clearly visible on the sleeve of her jacket and also on the front of her t-shirt. Her hair was bleach blonde, and scraped back into a tight bun behind her head. She was fingering the gun on her belt as she smirked up at Blake. “Her name was Audrey Roswell. Or, at least, that’s what her name appeared to be.”

“Who was she?” Blake asked.

The woman tilted her head slightly. “According to her files? She was a financial advisor working for a company called Schneider LLP, but we believe she was also a member of the resistance.”

Blake nodded thoughtfully. He’d heard of the resistance: a rogue group of Sense Offenders in LA who committed acts of treason as a form of rebellion against the law. “I assume that’s why I’ve been transferred here? Because of the resistance?”

“That’s right.” The woman nodded, extending the hand that wasn’t resting on her weapon. “My name is Gwen Stefani. I’m you’re new partner.”

Blake shook her hand briefly before pulling away. “Blake Shelton.”

Gwen smirked. “Where are you from? I’m guessing somewhere down south, from the sound of your accent.”

“Yes,” Blake replied quickly, without elaborating. He tended to keep to himself. “So, this girl, Audrey Roswell, I assume you interrogated her?”

“Of course,” Gwen said, beckoning Blake to follow her as she began walking back down the corridor, away from the Incineration Chamber. “Interrogations are my speciality. Speaking of which, I hear that a bit of detective work is yours? Don’t you have one of the highest Sense Offender detection rates in America? I heard your transfer was specially recommended by The Father himself.”

“It’s true,” Blake admitted. “But before you ask, no, I haven’t met him. I’m still just a regular officer. I’m not important enough.”

“I find it strange that you haven’t been promoted yet,” Gwen stated as they rounded a corner. “You’re practically famous around these parts.”

Blake looked at her. “I am?”

“Oh yes,” Gwen continued. “Your particular… style of execution is very interesting. Many find it inspiring, others find it irrational.”

Blake shrugged. “Each to their own.”

Gwen smiled. “Indeed.” She stopped in front of a door that was already wide open. “Here we are.”

Blake leaned over her shoulder to see a large roomed lined with two rows of desks that extended right up to a far wall, on which hung various clocks representing the different time zones across America. Each desk had a single computer, a pot containing three pens, a paper weight, a digital clock and a filing cabinet stored underneath, out of the way. The whole room was painted white, and the only light came from the square panels that hung from the celling in even intervals down the centre of the room. The LAPD’s bull pen was much bigger than the one Blake was used to back in his home town, Ada, that was for sure. In fact, the whole station was bigger- more sophisticated, more tech-savvy.

It was like entering another world. A better world. 

“Follow me,” Gwen said, leading Blake over to two empty desks. She pointed to the one in front. “This is my desk.”

Blake patted the one they were stood next to. “And I guess this is mine?”

“Good detective work, Shelton,” Gwen said, moving to sit at her desk, leaning down to rustle in her file cabinet while Blake lowered himself into the chair in front of his, running a hand over the smooth metal surface. It was nice, very nice.

After a minute or so, Gwen emerged from her hunched position grasping a file in one hand. She scooted her chair over to face Blake, dumping the file between them. “This is all I have on on Roswell. It isn’t much, but then again, we don’t really have much on the resistance. That’s why you’re here.”

Blake began flicking through the file to see that there were quite a few pictures of Audrey which were clearly surveillance photos. “How long had you been watching her?” he asked.

“About a month,” Gwen told him. “We initially got involved due to a concern from the manager of the Schneider LLP office she worked in. He’d ordered a random check-up on the company’s online security system and found a couple of outward calls from Roswell’s number to an unknown source that had been flagged as a security risk, but that had then been overridden.”

“Did you manage to find out who she’d been calling?” Blake wondered.

“Unfortunately not,” Gwen admitted. “But during my interrogation I did find out that she’d been making these calls for a couple of years, since she started working there. All the previous evidence had been completely wiped before every security check-up, so I assume she or whoever it was who hacked the system made a mistake this time around.”

“And cost Miss Roswell her life,” Blake said. He turned the page, studying the next set of photographs intensely. “She looked quite young.”

“She was in her late twenties,” Gwen confirmed.

Blake leaned back in his chair, closing the file. “Is this all you got after a month’s surveillance?”

Gwen closed the file. “Yes, it is… but you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. The resistance is very good at staying hidden. We’ve been aware of them for a while now but we still don’t know how many members there are, where they operate from, how they communicate or how they get away with half the things they do.”

“What do they do?”

“Well, so far, they’ve mostly destroyed shipments of Prozium by hacking into various companies’ systems to track the transportation. They’ve also stolen some supplies and a lot of money too. We have a feeling it’s only the beginning. I think as the resistance grows things are only going to get worse. Which is why we need your help to stop them.”

Blake frowned. “This isn’t much to go on. You appear to know what they do but not _how_ they do it. Or how to stop them from causing any more problems.”

“Actually, there is one more thing you should know. During my interrogation, I got Roswell to give me a name. It took me a week to get it out of her, but it’s better than nothing.”

Blake leaned forwards in his seat. “And…?”

Gwen opened her mouth to reply, but the shrill sound of a siren cut off her words.

Blake knew what it meant, not hesitating to reach into his pocket and pull out a small mechanism in the shape of a gun, the amber vial already slotted in place inside the chamber. He pressed the nozzle against his forearm, as he had done countless times before, finger on the trigger, when he felt someone shaking his shoulder. He looked up to see Gwen standing above him. He hadn’t noticed her move from her seat.

“Shelton, stop. You can’t take your own Prozium; you have to use the vials provided. It’s protocol.” She gestured to a panel in his desk he hadn’t seen before, which slid open to reveal a small tray that rose up with a pop once released. Placed neatly on the centre of the tray was a small vial of amber liquid marked ‘Prozium II’.

“Ok, sure,” Blake said, taking his own vial from the syringe gun and pocketing it, before replacing it with the new one. As soon as he lifted the vial from the tray, it sank back down into the desk and the panel slid closed again.

“Neat, isn’t it?” Gwen remarked. “That’ll open automatically every time the alarm rings. When in the field, you’ll be provided with the necessary Prozium, and everything is closely monitored for your protection.”

“Sounds good,” Blake told her, clicking the trigger to insert the needle into his arm. He felt a familiar cold rush as the liquid entered his blood stream, sending shivers down his spine. The procedure did hurt, but luckily the sensation only lasted for a minute or so, and without emotion it wasn’t like he was affected by the pain- he was just aware of it.

Once he was finished he set the gun down and turned back to his new partner. “You were going to give me a name?” he pressed.

“Yeah,” Gwen said. “It’s not much, but it’s a good starting point.”

“Go on…”

“She mentioned someone called Adam.”

“Adam…?”

Gwen sighed. “That was it. All I got was a first name.”

Blake rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Well, I agree, that is better than nothing. But just imagine how many Adams there are in LA.”

“I know,” Gwen said. “But if we cross-reference the name with all the places Roswell has visited, we may find a match. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

Blake nodded. LA was a much bigger place than Ada, and he knew looking for someone based on their first name was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, especially if the name was a common one like Adam, but he was certainly up for a challenge. “I guess we should get started then,” he said to his new partner, already logging onto his computer. “Let’s find this son-of-a-bitch.”

* * *

 

“Adam?” Christina yelled, banging angrily on the door with a curled fist. “Let me in right this instant. I won’t ask again.”

No reply.

She almost let out a howl of frustration. Why was Adam always this stubborn? He was going to have to confront his father eventually- that much was inevitable. Honestly, he had turned 30 the other week and still he chose to behave like a sulking teenager. Sighing, she pulled a grip from her hair and bent to insert it into the lock below the door handle. The end of the grip was sharp enough to slot right into the mechanism, and with a bit of jiggling around, she finally heard the satisfying click of the door unlocking.

Without wasting another second, she swung it open, only to reveal an empty room which was also- to her distaste- a complete mess. The room looked like a small metal box, just like all the other bedrooms (if you could even call them that) in the underground bunker. Another four guys shared the room with Adam, which meant it was a tight squeeze due to there being a single camper bed squashed against the back wall alongside the typical set of two bunkbeds. There was only just enough room to walk between them, and the whole place stank of tobacco and sweat.

Adam’s bed- the single- was littered with papers and various different items which were strewn over the crumpled heap of a duvet. Under the bed there were piles of clothes and a couple of carboard boxes she knew contained weaponry and various other scraps Adam used to invent things for his laptop, which was perched precariously on the single shelf nailed roughly to the wall besides the map of LA and a photo of Adam’s mom, Patsy. 

“Damn it,” Christina muttered to herself, backing away once she’d taken it all in. “I should’ve known.”

She was still walking backwards when she crashed into something which felt distinctly like another human being. She whipped around, catching the person by the arm before they could flee the scene. “Jesse!” she exclaimed, instantly recognising him as one of Adam’s friends and fellow bunkmate. “Have you seen Adam, Jesse?”

“What?” Jesse squeaked, clutching the book he’d been reading to his chest as if it could shield him from Christina’s piercing stare. “No,” he lied.

“Ok, so maybe you haven’t seen him, but you know where he’s gone, don’t you, Jesse?” Christina said knowingly, dropping his arm.

Jesse paled but remained silent, a dead giveaway.

“Come one, you know you have to tell me. Fred wants to see him.” Christina rolled her eyes as the awkward silence stretched on. “You know I’ll have to report you if you don’t tell me. Jesse, I’m trying to go easy on you here.”

“Fine,” Jesse blurted. “He went out with James and Mickey to get cigarettes.”

Christina’s eyes widened. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, Christina.” Jesse hung his head, ashamed. “I tried to stop him, but you know how he gets.”

“Is this about Behati?”

“He still thinks it’s his fault.”

“Great.” Christina ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Just great. He’s going to be in so much trouble for this. I told him not to do anything stupid. I told him!”

“Please don’t tell Fred I knew about it,” Jesse said meekly. “I really did try to stop him.”

“But you should’ve told me about it,” Christina groaned. “How long ago did he leave?”

Jesse seemed to grow even smaller. “I’m not sure… maybe an hour ago?” His voice faltered when he saw Christina’s expression grow even more aghast. “I’m sorry! Please don’t tell him! I promise I’ll come to you straight away next time.” 

Christina glanced down at her watch. “Holy shit, curfew is in ten minutes! He’ll be stuck out there all night if he doesn’t make it make before the door closes. Fucking hell, Fred’s gonna be so pissed.”

“I’m-“

“Leave it,” Christina cut in before Jesse could apologise again, already sprinting off down the hall. She didn’t have much time.

* * *

 

The streets of LA were growing darker by the second, and Adam knew he didn’t have long before the patrols would be out once the place was completely deserted. He did have one of his fake licenses with him, but James had stupidly picked out the one that said he was a police officer. How the hell was he going to explain that one to the _police_?

He quickly turned down the alley that ran alongside the old warehouse- where he knew illegal contraband was being stored for incineration, his back pressed up against the wall. There was a scratching sound that made him jump, but when squinting into the shadows relief washed over him when he saw it was only a stray cat scavenging for food in the bins at the end of the alley.

After a brief look around to check the coast was clear, he moved so that he was directly below the balcony that jutted out from the house down the other side of the alley, opposing the electric fence that surrounded the warehouse. Using the drainpipe that ran vertically alongside the balcony for assistance, he shimmied up the wall, using the indents between the different layers of brick to help haul himself upwards, until he could grasp the metal bars of the balcony and let go so that he was swinging directly beneath it. The gloves he wore helped him to get a firm grip on the bars so that he could quickly reach down with one hand to unclip the grappling hook gun from his belt.

He closed one eye to aim and point, firing at the space right next to one of the second-floor windows of the warehouse, where he knew they stashed what he needed. There was a brief hissing sound as the hook discharged and sped through the air, lodging firmly into the wall. Adam gave the chord it was attached to a quick tug to check it held, before quickly looping the gun around one of the bars in a sturdy knot, pulling it tight so that the chord was taught.

He wasted no time in moving each hand individually across to grasp the chord, twisting so that he was facing the balcony, and swinging his legs up so that his ankles were crossed over it as well, allowing him to shimmy horizontally towards the warehouse, over the electric fence. Since the building was only about a metres distance from the fence, it didn’t take him long to reach the window, which was easily jimmied open with a knife after being loosened on his previous visits.

“James,” Adam hissed once he’d landed safely inside. “I’m in.”

He heard rustling in his ear piece. “Well hurry up, you dimwit. Mickey says you’ve only got about five minutes before the cameras are back up and it’s all over if you’re spotted in there. It’s gonna be tight, man.”

Adam set off at a run, backpack bouncing up and down on his shoulders. Luckily the place was long abandoned, the workers having already left for the day, and with surveillance down for the time being, he was able to move easily through the rooms without the worry of being spotted. “Don’t worry,” he panted, trying to sound nonchalant. “I got this.”

It took him a mere few seconds to unlock the door to ‘Storage Room 17’, where he knew they would be. Once inside, his eyes swept over the shelves stuffed with hundreds and hundreds of cigarette packets, cigars, tobacco, weed and other recreational drugs. He smirked.

“You guys want anything?” he offered as he began poking around, selecting a couple of packets of Lucky Strike filters- his favourites, because they were so rare since they had been discontinued in the US a long time ago.

“Just Marlboro, dude,” James said in his ear. “None of that crap you like. Matt’ll probably want cigars, and you might as well get Jesse some weed. You know he’s into all that natural shit.”

“Got it,” Adam said, stuffing the requested items into his rucksack. “Seriously, James, relax, I can practically hear you heart beating though the earpiece.”

“Well, hurry the fuck up then,” James hissed. “You’ve got two minutes, tops. Get out of there.”

“I’m going,” Adam insisted, stopping briefly at the door to check nothing looked out of place. Once he was satisfied he quickly relocked the door and sprinted full pelt all the way back to the window, practically launching himself at the chord and replacing the broken window pane carefully with one hand as he dangled in mid-air.

He didn’t realise he was shaking so badly until he was just over the electric fence, noticing how wobbly the chord was as he shifted forwards. It was at that moment James decided to shout in his ear with a burst of static.

“Dude! Less than a minute. You’ve got to get out of that alleyway.”

Adam jumped so violently at the sound his hands slipped, and then he was falling. He landed flat on his back, all the breath whooshing out of him as he lay there, stunned, thankfully in the alley and not on the other side of the fence.

“Adam, what happened?”

He groaned, rolling onto his front and pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. “I fell,” he said, staggering to his feet and rubbing his back, which was most definitely going to bruise. He was just glad he didn’t land on his head, and that the fall was short enough for him to not break anything, although he had a feeling he was going to be a bit sore for the next couple of days.

“Adam. Twenty seconds. Get out of there right now.”

“Shit! The chord!” Adam gasped, looking up to where he had fallen from.

“Leave it Adam, there’s no time. Get out of there.”

“But-“

“Ten seconds. Move, now!”

Adam cursed again, sprinting to the end of the alley and rounding the corner without looking to check for patrols first. Luckily the main street was empty, and when he peeked back around at the camera fastened to the wall of the warehouse, he could see the little blinking red light that indicated the security was once again up and running.

He could also see the grappling hook gun and the chord that stretched between the balcony and the warehouse window. He turned away to lean heavily against the wall, his legs suddenly very weak despite the adrenaline pumping through his body. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Shit.”

“Adam?” James piped up after a brief moment of silence.

“What?”

“We have another problem.”

“What now?” Adam groaned, reluctantly peeling himself away from the wall.

“Adam?” It was a woman’s voice that spoke to him this time, and Adam’s heart plummeted.

“Christina?” he asked, trying to sound bemused even though he knew it was her.

“Get back here now,” she ordered. “You’ve got five minutes before the door closes.”

Adam managed to stifle another groan. How had Christina found out about this? “Hold on," he said. "I’m coming.”

* * *

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Christina yelled as soon as Adam climbed down the ladder from the sewage tunnels, briefly pausing to lock the trap door above his head. The bunker ran deep underground, but it followed the basic pattern of the sewage tunnels around the centre of LA, so it was always easy to know where you were if you had the right sort of map, and where there were safe places to emerge without being spotted. “You are in so much deep shit. And for what? A smoke?”

“I can’t help it,” Adam said as he followed her back through the corridor, already knowing where she was taking him. “I’m addicted.”

“Oh, don’t you dare give me any of your bullshit right now, Levine,” Christina said in a threatening tone, turning to glare at him. “I’m going to enjoy imagining you suffer as you explain all of this to Fred.”

“Or you could just not tell him?” Adam suggested.

Christina gave a short, disbelieving laugh, but otherwise remained in cold silence. She didn’t say another word until she stopped outside Fred’s office, ushering him forwards with a cruel smile. “It’s like leading a pig to slaughter,” she said gleefully, before marching off and leaving Adam alone to knock on the door.

“Come in,” Fred called from inside in his usual loud, obnoxious voice.

Adam stepped inside without hesitation, deciding that he might as well just face his punishment head on, and with a brave face. “Hi dad,” he said without looking up, shoving both hands into his jean pockets.

“Well, what do you know?” Fred sneered from where he sat behind his desk. “The bastard can’t even look at me after what he did, he’s too ashamed.” He banged a fist on the table, causing Adam to flinch. “Look up and face me like a man.”

Adam raised his chin defiantly, staring his father right in the eyes. “I’m not ashamed of anything,” he said plainly, his voice remarkably calm. “As far as I’m concerned I did nothing wrong. I stayed out a little late, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Fred scoffed. “I told you you weren’t allowed to go above ground this week, and yet you still have the nerve to disobey me. Worse, go out there and risk your life for nothing but a couple of cigarettes. I am your father and the leader of this movement. This is a very serious offense, son.”

“A serious offense?” Adam laughed. “Are you kidding me? I barely did anything, and I’m fine. You’re just pissed because you hate it when someone doesn’t do what you want.”

“Of course I’m pissed!” Fred yelled, his voice growing louder and louder with every word. “How on earth am I supposed to maintain order if every single member of the resistance decides it’s ok to leave and do a bit of shopping whenever they feel like it? How am I supposed to keep people safe? Heck! How are people going to feel safe if I can’t even control my own son?”

“Well you can’t expect me to live my whole life underground,” Adam argued, eyes flashing angrily. “The whole point of having emotion is to feel happy. And I’m not happy stuck down here for all eternity. I might as well go and live up there with the robots, because at least then I’ll be free from this prison.”

“How dare you say that,” Fred ground out in a dangerously quiet voice. “I’ve given you a home where you have shelter and protection. Your mother made me promise to keep you safe, and that is what I am doing, whether you like it or not.”

“You don’t keep me safe,” Adam shouted, “I don’t feel safe here. You don’t care about me! You blame me for her death. In fact, you probably wish I’d never been born! Then I’d be out of your hair and she’d still be here.”

“Stop it, Adam!” Fred screamed, erupting in a fit of rage, his voice so loud it was causing Adam’s ears to ring. Before he could react, his father was barrelling across the room towards him, grabbing him by his shirt collar and throwing him against the back of the door. “How dare you say those things! How dare you! As well as disobeying orders from me, you are disrespecting your mother-“

“I’m not disrespecting her,” Adam cut in, boiling with rage. “ _You are_. You are by not loving me like she wished you to. You are by treating me like garbage.”

“Wake up,” Fred yelled back, slamming his palm into the door right by Adam’s head, leaning in so close Adam could feel the heat of his breath. “You’re an adult and you’re acting like a goddamn child. When will this rebellious streak end? When will you finally see that all this is only going to get you killed. You’re a loose cannon, Adam. You’re endangering everyone else here. Your friends- everyone. It has to stop.”

“You’re the loose cannon, dad. Don’t you dare blame this all on me,” Adam spat. “Your temper is out of control whenever you’re around me. You can’t think straight. _That’s_ what’s going to get us killed.”

Fred tightened his grip on Adam’s collar, licking his lips. His face was bright red. “Maybe I wouldn’t be so angry If you didn’t provoke me all the time.”

“Oh please,” Adam rolled his eyes, jabbing a finger at his father’s chest. “This is on you. You made me this way. Right from the beginning, I didn’t have to do anything and you were mad. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like I’ve done something wrong- like I’m some big mistake just because you hated my guts. Just because you blame me for mom.”

Fred let out what sounded like a feral growl, low and deep in his throat. “Get out of my sight,” he ordered.

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Gladly,” he muttered, shoving his father away from him before turning to stalk out the door. Before he could leave, however, Fred spoke again.

“Oh, and Adam.”

Adam stopped, his shoulders stiffening, but he didn’t say a word or turn around.

“You’re right about one thing,” Fred said slowly. “Behati’s death? It _was_ your fault. And that’s on you.”

Adam made sure to slam the door as hard as he could on the way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uploaded... finally ;) Although, I'm sorry to say that Blake and Adam still haven't met yet- but they will very, very soon, I promise. And things are about to get interesting, too. Let me know if you are enjoying the story as much as I am loving writing it so far. I've been pretty busy lately so I haven't been writing as much as I did over Christmas break, however all I can do is apologise profusely and try to start uploading again more regularly. I'll make it my new year's resolution...

The sign above his door read: _animi causa tanti belli et iniquitas._ It meant that ‘the cause of all war and violence is emotion’. It was a constant reminder that World War III- a terrible event that resulted in the loss of half the world’s population- could have been prevented if emotions were supressed as they were now, allowing everyone to live in a peaceful, harmonious existence. 

Blake glanced up at the sign for a second, before turning back to the mirror to smooth down his new LAPD shirt. Although the previous uniform had been navy, the one officers wore now was a dark grey. Most items of clothing were black, grey or white, as there was no need for colour when nobody had an emotional desire to express themselves. This way there was no cause for prejudice or opinions to be formed, and therefore no harm would be done.

If it weren’t for Sense Offenders- police officers wouldn’t even have a job, considering that there were no other crimes committed.

Blake checked his watch before smoothing his unruly grey curls back one final time. He was right on time as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, closing the door behind him. There was no need for him to lock it, because it so was unlikely that anyone would break in.

The sound of a car honking made him jump. He looked up to see Gwen waving at him from the wheel of a BMW i8 Spyder. “Morning, Shelton,” she said. “I brought you coffee.”

Blake raised an eyebrow as he made his way over, admiring the sleek silver and black striped design of the sports car. Police vehicles were certainly way more sophisticated in LA compared to the trucks they rolled around in back in Ada. “Sweet ride,” he noted as he climbed into the passenger seat.

Gwen grinned at him. Her hair was different today- braided tightly down the back of her head, but she still wore the same, all-black attire that she had been wearing the day before. “Thanks,” she said, handing him a freshly steaming paper cup filled to the brim with rich smelling coffee. “There you go.”

Blake took a long gulp, and felt the coffee burn as it washed down his throat. “I’ve never tasted coffee like this before,” he said, licking his lips. “I thought there was only one universal brand?”

“There is. But the chief of the LAPD gives us something to put in our drinks that gives us more energy for work. It’s a specially designed drug provided by The Father himself. Apparently, it even increases your strength and helps you to become more alert, more focused. I’ve noticed a big difference ever since I started taking it,” Gwen explained. “I must get some for you.”

“Impressive,” Blake commented, downing the rest and crushing the cup in his fist.

“Anyway,” Gwen continued, leaning forwards to press the power button, revving the engine a couple of times. “You’d better hold on; this thing moves fast.”

Blake did as she said, gripping the corners of his seat tightly, and at the same time Gwen stamped her foot down on the accelerator. She hadn’t been kidding: the car shot off like a rocket, and when Blake turned to look over his shoulder he could see a cloud of dust kicked up in their wake.

“This is really efficient,” he said, still clinging on for dear life, his recently combed hair completely ruffled by the wind that rushed past him. “I have got to get myself one of these.”

“They give you one after a year on the force,” Gwen shouted, raising her voice significantly to be heard over the roaring of the engine. “It’s a hybrid car, so it can run on both petrol and electricity. We have charging pods in the car park.”

Blake raised his eyebrows. Living in Ada had been like living in the stone age. They had none of the modern technology the LAPD were provided with, but then again, LA was the capital city, and Ada was just a small town in the middle of nowhere. Plus, in a such a big city they had a lot more ground to cover, a lot more Sense Offenders to deal with… the resistance. Of course, they were going to need the latest tech.

The i8 was such a fast car that they’d arrived at the station within a couple of minutes- Blake had even checked his watch he couldn’t quite believe it.

“So, where are we with the Adam case?” Gwen asked as they made their way inside.

“Well, I have the file on my desk,” Blake replied, already headed in that direction. “But, Stefani, I was wondering… how did you know where I lived?”

Gwen smirked. “I’m the police, Shelton. How do you think I found out?”

Blake thought for a moment. “Those trackers they implant in you at birth?” he offered.

Gwen smirked again. “You _are_ a smart detective. But yes, now that you’ve been transferred and entered into the system, the LAPD also has access to your tracker, and they can also log where you’ve been over the past couple of months.”

“Very useful,” Blake said. “But, back on task, I’m afraid to say there hasn’t been much of a development in the Adam case. I did manage to draw up some statistics though.” He sat down and flicked open the file that was readily awaiting. “There are, on average, 5,000 people called Adam living in LA. That’s out of a population of around 4 million people. I also looked up the surname ‘Adams’, just in case that’s what Roswell meant when she told you his name, and found that there are about 10,000 people living here with that surname.” Blake paused to turn over the page. “Then, I narrowed the search to Adams living with a 10-mile radius of where Roswell worked.” He looked up at Gwen. “54 people with the first name Adam, 97 with the surname Adams. But, of course, Roswell could have been lying and made up the name in the first place.”

“She didn’t,” Gwen insisted, elaborating when Blake gave her a sceptical look. “There was the letter ‘A’ tattooed behind her ear, which could have stood for ‘Audrey’, but I don’t think that was her real name. And I studied love at the police academy. I could see it in her eyes when she said his name… she loved him, and she was extremely guilty about ratting him out. That was when I finally broke her.”

“But still… that’s a potential 151 names to investigate. And the resistance is an imminent threat. We just don’t have that amount of time.”

“Hey, Stefani,” a voice interrupted. Both Gwen and Blake looked up to see a well-built guy with a shaved head standing in front of their desks. “I’ve got something that may interest you.”

“Good morning Usher,” Gwen said, acknowledging her fellow officer with a curt nod. “Shelton, meet Usher.”

“Hello,” Blake said. “Is what you’ve got related to the Adam case?”

“Not exactly,” Usher said, “but it might be. I think it’s related to the resistance. Take a look at this.” He held out a photo that Gwen and Blake immediately leant in to see. It looked like some sort of wire crossing from a balcony over to a window across a small alleyway.

“What is it?” Blake asked, still none the wiser.

“Is that one of those warehouses where they destroy illegal goods?” Gwen asked, and Usher nodded. “I think this one is very close to where Roswell worked at Schneider LLP.”

“What’s this?” Blake queried, pointing to the wire.

“Ah,” Usher said. “This was recorded by the security cameras just before curfew last night. A security guard spotted it when he went to review the tapes early this morning. The thing just appeared with no footage to show how it got up there. And do you know what it is? A grappling hook gun.”

“They’re illegal for public use,” Gwen added. “So that means this was done by either a member of the resistance or a rouge official. And I’m guessing it was the former.”

“That’s what I think,” Usher agreed. “It looks like whoever did this used it to get inside the warehouse, which is being swept for prints and the like right this moment. I’ll tell you if anything comes up. I mean, they’re bound to have stolen something.”

“And I bet they hacked the security feed somehow, which is why you didn’t see the person entering or leaving the building,” Blake said, his brow furrowed in thought. “But I wonder why they left evidence? Stefani, you say the resistance is usually clean when performing a job. They leave nothing behind- no trace.”

“That’s right,” Gwen said.

“So what went wrong?” Blake asked. “Something must’ve happened to spook the intruder, or make him sloppy. Such as, perhaps, the recent demise of a close friend or lover…”

“Yes, you’re right,” Gwen said, realisation dawning on what Blake was alluding to. “This was probably a two-man job. Someone to hack security, but also someone to actually enter the building. Our mystery assailant could very well be Adam.”

“Exactly,” Blake finished, swivelling in his chair to face Usher again. “I’d like to review those tapes myself. See if that guard missed anything. Who knows? Maybe we’ll catch our first glimpse of Adam.”

* * *

 

“Holy shit balls, this is bad,” Christina said under her breath as she walked past the warehouse, trying to keep her head facing straight forwards as she eyed the scene with trepidation. There were cars pulled up everywhere, police tape over the gate’s entrance and across the front of the alleyway next to it.

“Why? Is the grappling hook gun still there?” Adam asked, his voice annoyingly laid back considering this whole mess was his fault.

“Yep,” Christina muttered, spotting the length of chord running from an adjacent building across the electric fence to attach to the wall on the other side. “Oh, and the police are here.”

“Relax,” Adam drawled. “I was wearing gloves. They won’t be able to find any fingerprints, and I’m not even in the system. Besides, I stole a few packets of cigarettes. They probably won’t even find anything missing, and it’s not like I took some Prozium or anything. It’s no big deal, the whole thing’s gonna blow over in a day or two, just you wait.”

“Or it might not,” Christina said worriedly. “You know the LAPD have been recruiting more officers from outside the city. They’re on to us, what with all the Prozium raids and the Behati situation-“

“Christina, I would be grateful if you didn’t mention that,” Adam interrupted, his voice suddenly tense.

Christina cursed inwardly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. But the point is, things aren’t like they used to be. The police are getting smarter, and now that they’re aware the resistance exists, they’re not going to stop. Everything you do is now more dangerous, and the repercussions will be more severe. I’m telling you, Adam, this is bad.”

“Ok, ok, I believe you,” Adam insisted. Christina heard him sigh through the earpiece. “So what do we do? Can you retrieve the gun?”

Christina almost laughed out loud. For an insanely smart guy, Adam could sometimes be extremely dim witted. “No, dickhead, I can’t. It’s police evidence now. There’s no way I could get to it.”

“So what do we do?” Adam repeated.

“There’s nothing we _can_ do,” Christina told him as she continued up the street, resisting the urge to look back over her shoulder at the scene unfolding behind her. “We’ll just keep an eye on the cops, see where they take this, and pray to god it doesn’t escalate.”

“Ok,” Adam agreed half-heartedly.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get to work. We’ll talk when I get back,” Christina said, spotting a BMW i8 Spyder- the model LAPD officers used- flying up the road towards her. It sped past her, and she heard the screech of breaks behind her as it came to a stop. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it was stopping in front of the warehouse. 

“Good luck,” Adam said before he cut off, and the earpiece went dead.

* * *

 

Blake got out of the car swiftly as soon as Gwen parked in front of the warehouse from the photograph. There was no time to waste since this was such an urgent case, and he was finally getting somewhere with it.

“Are you Officer Shelton?” a man asked. He was old, with a hunched back, a high-vis jacket over his plain black suit.

“Yes, are you the security guard who found those tapes?” Blake inquired as he shook the man’s hand.

Gwen appeared at his shoulder. “No, I believe this is the manager, Mr Rogers. You oversee things here, don’t you?”

“That’s right,” Mr Rogers nodded. “And I came here as soon as I heard about the break-in. Although, the police have been scouring this place for a good couple of hours now, and nothing appears to be missing.”

“They could have planted something,” Blake pointed out.

Mr Rogers frowned. “Well, yes. I’m sure they’ll keep looking until they find something out of place. Do you want to see the tapes now?”

“Yes,” Blake said. “But we’d also like to take closer look at the chord between the buildings, see if there are any clues as to why this resistance mission didn’t go to plan.”

“Of course, follow me, please.” Mr Rogers led them into the building, and took the first left into a small, closet-like room that was pretty much bare expect for the chair that sat in front of a wall filled with computers, displaying every single camera feed on the premises. Blake could even see himself on the screen in the top right corner, and when he glanced over his shoulder he could see a small camera tucked away just above the door, almost undetectable when bathed in shadow.

Mr Rogers sat down on the chair, fiddling with the screen right in front of him, which was the one for the camera in the alleyway. He rewound the footage until the wire suddenly vanished from the display. Blake watched intently as Rogers let the feed play, noting how the screen went fuzzy and then flickered black for a fraction of a second before reappearing, the wire in place. Then a tiny movement caught his eye.

“Stop,” he ordered, and Rogers immediately paused the video. “Play it back again.”

The second time round he focused in on the tiny spot to the far left of the screen where you could just about see around the street corner. “Right there. Stop,” he shouted, causing Rogers to jump violently as his voice boomed through the silent concentration. “Can you see it?” he asked, turning to Gwen.

She stared at the screen, squinting hard. “Right there in the left corner…” she started. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Blake said, pointing directly to the half a face that was poking out from behind the wall, barely visible. “It’s Adam.”

* * *

 

“I’m worried about Christina,” Jesse admitted, after James repeatedly asked him what was wrong.

“Jesse, you worry about everything,” Adam said, taking a long drag from the cigarette he was holding as he leaned back against the wall, one knee propped up on the bed, the other dangling over the side.

“It’s probably because he’s got a crush on her,” James said with an innocent shrug.

Jesse’s mouth gaped open. “I do not!”

“Yeah, Jesse’s already in a relationship with mother nature, so no way does he have a crush on an actual human being,” Mickey laughed, earning a punch in the arm from Jesse, who was sat right beside him.

“Guys, c’mon, I’m serious. It’s getting too dangerous for her to be out there every day, especially now the police are aware of the resistance. I mean, they already found Behati…”

“Jesse,” James hissed with a warning glare, jabbing is thumb towards Adam, who had paled slightly at the mention of Behati’s name.

Jesse winced. “Sorry, man, I thought that wasn’t such a sore subject for you anymore.”

“Are you kidding me, dude? They were _best friends._ You don’t just get over something like that,” James explained slowly, as if he was explaining the alphabet to a nine-year-old. “Besides, you didn’t hear the argument between Fred and Adam last night. It was brutal what he said about Behati.”

“What do you mean?

“He said that her death was his fault.”

“Can you please stop talking about me as if I’m not here?” Adam scowled, inhaling more smoke as he sucked on his joint, eyebrows knitting together. “There’s no point talking about this anymore. It’s over- It’s done. She’s dead… end of.”

“Adam-“

“Seriously, James, leave it. I don’t care what you think about it. I certainly don’t give a fuck about what my dad thinks. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Clear?” He flicked a burning piece of ash off the end of his cigarette, before putting it back in his mouth and letting it hang there.

“Alright, dude, I got it,” James said, holding up his hands.

“What about Matt?” Jesse blurted out of the blue, causing three heads to turn and stare at him, bemused.

“What about Matt?” Mickey asked.

“Well, aren’t you worried about him too?” Jesse said. “Both of them out there, risking their lives to gather information about The Father and the LAPD and, and…”

“Of course we’re worried,” James said. “We’ll always be worried. But everyone here is risking their lives. You, me, everyone. It’s the law to take Prozium, remember? That’s why we’re _outlaws_ …”

“I’m just...” Jesse sighed, looking down to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt collar. “I don’t know, man. I have a bad feeling…”

James huffed. “Oh, don’t start with all that hippie psychic shit again, man. I’m not in the mood. You’re just gonna make us worry more if you keep on like this.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” Jesse pouted, still apparently fascinated by the buttons. “I just have this feeling…”

“Seriously, Jesse?” Mickey groaned, falling back against his pillow.

“Just think,” James said, irritation clear in his voice. “If it weren’t for people like Christina and Matt, and all of the other spies in the resistance leading double lives, we might not be here today. They could’ve discovered us ages ago, forced us to take Prozium, and then you wouldn’t be able to feel anything. You’d be another robot, just like them.”

Adam exhaled a cloud of smoke, banging the back of his head lightly against the wall and closing his eyes. “Well, on that note…” he said, cigarette still between his teeth. “I think I’m gonna take a walk. Clear my head.” He stood up, plucking the cigarette from his mouth to put out against his thigh, leaving a tiny scorch mark on his skinny jeans.

“Take a walk where exactly?” James asked suspiciously, leaping off his own bed to stand between Adam and the door.

“Just around,” Adam said vaguely, taking the appearance of the human blockade as an opportunity to reach into his back pocket and draw out another cigarette, lighting it up in his mouth, his forehead creased in concentration.

James resisted the urge to place his hands on his hips. He always ended up feeling as though he was mothering Adam, when actually, he was merely trying to look out for him. It was a shame Adam didn’t see it that way. “You’re planning to go outside, aren’t you?”

Adam sighed. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“Adam, you can’t,” James said firmly. “Not after yesterday.”

“Oh come on, I’m not going to go anywhere. I just want some fresh air,” Adam insisted, stepping to the side.

James mirrored his actions. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t let you.”

“Well, it’s not like I can smoke in the corridors,” Adam said with a wave of his hand, trying to be reasonable.

“Well you can’t smoke up there either,” James said through gritted teeth. “You can’t smoke anywhere. It’s _illegal._ You’d be arrested immediately.”

“Don’t be stupid, James. I’m not gonna let anyone see me,” Adam said. “At least let me go to the tunnels.”

James raised his eyebrows until they were almost reaching his hairline. “You really want to hang out in the sewers?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t think so. Besides, you’ll just go outside anyway once you’re in there.”

Adam folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. “What happened to you, James? You used to always be up for something like this. But recently? You’ve been acting like my father. You don’t want to do anything anymore.”

James folded his arms too. “Oh, you want to do this now?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“You want to know why I’ve been acting like this, huh?” James said angrily. “It’s because I grew up. You can’t go on behaving all rebellious forever, you know. Especially not now. Things are changing, Adam.” He gave him a meaningful look. “You of all people should know that. Things aren’t what they used to be. If what happened yesterday proved anything… it’s that it’s too dangerous to be disobeying your father’s orders anymore.”

Adam choked on his cigarette, eyes widening. “Are you fucking with me? You’re actually gonna side with that sick bastard?”

“Yes, Adam, I am. Because for the first time he is actually right. And I don’t have to like the guy to admit that. When are you going to realise all this is only doing more harm than good? Do you really want to jeopardise everything the resistance is aiming for just because you’re upset? Just because you’re acting out and you don’t like your father-“

“I am not acting out.”

“Yeah, Adam, you are. Behati died for the cause. Do you really want to honour her in this way? By not learning from you’re mistakes?”

Adam stuttered, angry tears welling in his eyes. “My _mistake?_ Are you saying her death was my fault?”

James’ eyes widened. “What? No! No, I didn’t mean-“

“Well, at least now I know what you really think of me,” Adam said quietly, pushing past a gaping James and fleeing from the room without another word.

“Wait, Adam-“

Jesse and Mickey stared after him in utter shock, while James just hung his head in defeat, exhaling slowly.

There was a long, tense silence before anybody spoke. “So…” Jesse said cautiously. “I’m guessing someone’s going to have to tell Fred about this.”

“I vote James,” Mickey said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. So... I don't know how I feel about this chapter, because for some reason I just couldn't get it right, but this is as good as it's going to get for now. In other news, I have finally planned the number of chapters I'm going to write, although knowing me things are definitely not set in stone as I have a habit of changing my mind pretty much every time I sit down to write. To be honest, this story could end up anywhere, but for now I have a clear trajectory (if I get round to writing it). I've also been writing some more one-shots which is nice as they require less elaborate thinking, which I am sometimes incapable of, as demonstrated in my writing throughout this chapter. I'll be uploading them soon, so stay tuned!

Gwen scuffed her shoe against the edge of the sidewalk, wiping off the layer of grit that had stuck there from when she’d been inside the warehouse (which had been really filthy). “Shelton, what are you expecting to find here? We’ve already checked the window- there was nothing. And no one’s found any fingerprints yet.”

Blake crouched down close to the ground, directly under the length of wire running over his head. “If Adam left in a hurry, there’s a high chance he left something behind that could help us track his whereabouts.”

“Well, I can’t see anything,” Gwen said.

Blake looked up at her. “Give me a minute.”

“Ok,” she said after a pause. “But then I’m going back to the station to run that image of Adam from the camera feed through facial recognition. Hopefully if the image is clear enough they might even be able to do a facial reconstruction.” She paused again. “Shelton? Are you listening?”

“Hang on, I think I’ve got something,” Blake said, waving Gwen over to his side. “What do you think?” He pointed to a small patch of brown staining the tarmac. “Do you think that’s blood?”

“It might be,” Gwen said, peering down. “Or it could just be nothing.”

“But if it is, then we have a sample of his DNA. You see,” Blake explained, “I think during his escape Adam might have fallen as he crossed the wire, and he probably cut himself when he landed, right here.”

Gwen let her eyes sweep over the ground surrounding them. “Shelton,” she said, “I think you might be right, look.” She walked over and knelt down beside another spot of blood a little further away.

Blake allowed himself to smile. If he could feel smug, right now that’s exactly what he would be feeling. “Our little Sense Offender has left us a bread crumb trail. Or, more accurately, a trail of blood.”

“It might not lead anywhere,” Gwen said.

“But it might lead us closer to the resistance’s hideout,” Blake countered. “It’s got to be around this area somewhere.”

“You probably went hunting back in the country, right?” Gwen asked. “So would you be able to track the blood?”

Blake stood up straight, stretching his legs, which had gone slightly stiff after crouching down for so long. “I think so. It might be tricky, because it doesn’t look like he was too badly injured. But you’re right- I did go hunting back in Ada. And I used to do a lot of deer tracking too.”

“Good. And maybe I should take a sample of the blood back to the lab to get it tested for DNA,” Gwen said. “Meanwhile, you can see if you get anywhere with this. I’ll call you to keep you updated, and you call me if you find anything. I think it will be more efficient if we work separately here.”

Blake nodded. “I agree. Good luck.”

Gwen grinned. “You too. I can’t believe we’re finally getting somewhere. I knew as soon as I heard you were being transferred things would pick up.”

“Hopefully by the end of the day we’ll be able to put a face to the name,” Blake said in return. “A proper glimpse of Adam this time.”

* * *

 

Evening light was already filtering through the leaves- bathing them in a warm, orange glow- when Adam shoved open the grate and heaved himself up and out of the sewers. He tried to close the trap quietly, which took a lot of effort when all he wanted to do was slam it shut and let out a scream of frustration. But of course, that wasn’t an option, unless he wanted to send the cops running and give up his location. And Adam was always careful, which was partly why he was so pissed off with everyone warning him not to do anything stupid.

Yes, going above ground was risky, but Adam had been doing it since he could remember, and he had never been caught. He was an expert at keeping out of sight, sticking to the shadows and hiding in places people wouldn’t think twice to look. Even when he wasn’t shielded by the dark of the night, he had never been seen: he was practically an expert at stealth.

Sure, there had been a couple of close calls. Well, ok, there had been many. But what was life without a little risk? He and James used to love the feeling of adrenaline that coursed through their veins whenever they pulled a dangerous job: whether they were stealing things for the resistance or random contraband just for the fun of it. It didn’t look like that was the case anymore though. Apparently his friends no longer trusted him, and he couldn’t really blame them. James was right about one thing- as much as he hated to admit it. If it wasn’t for him, Behati wouldn’t be dead right now.

Even just the thought of her caused his chest to cramp and his head to spin. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t stop the image of her smile- her laugh- filtering through his mind. How had they caught her? How had they known to look through the call history? He always, _always_ deleted every single scrap of evidence before the company’s scheduled system check-ups, but for some reason he’d missed it. And the worst part was he still didn’t know where it had all gone wrong- he’d been so sure it would be fine. They could chat while she was at work, surrounded by the robots, under the watchful eye of The Father- no problem. Yeah right. Oh, what a fucking fool he had been.

Adam let out a deep breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, turning his head towards the rays of light like a flower basking in the sun, treasuring the warmth on his cheeks. He loved this feeling, and it was so rare that he got to have a moment as peaceful as this. When outside, he was usually too busy sneaking around, artfully dodging cops and breaking into buildings to really appreciate the world.

He hated it underground, it made him feel just as trapped as it must feel like to be a robot. But being out in the open, it felt like a release. Like freedom. Only it wasn’t, because everywhere he went there would always be someone watching. The robots up here, or his father down there. All he wanted to do was be able to live his life without any restrictions, which seemed an impossible concept in a world that- after the war- believed restriction was the only way forwards.

Nevertheless, Adam’s dream of freedom was one he wasn’t willing to give up on, not now, not ever.

The sound of rustling in the leaves made him freeze instantly, pulling him from his peaceful serenity. At first, he thought it must be an animal, that is until he turned around- slowly, without making any noise- to see a distinctly human shaped figure ploughing through the bushes towards him.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathed.

The person- a man- hadn’t seen him yet. Adam saw him turning his head in all directions, clearly looking for something. He let out a shaky breath. He highly doubted the man was looking for him, but if he was spotted, it still wasn’t going to end well.

This was one of his favourite exits from the sewage tunnels, because the thick foliage surrounding the grate always made for great cover when going in and out. The bushes backed onto a brick wall that ran along the edge of some sort of park that was very close to the warehouse and other useful places around central Los Angeles. But the park was long overgrown, and people barely ever used it- probably because all the robots ever did was go to work and then go home in time for curfew.

Yet, Adam still found himself in a state of shock, because it was extremely rare that he ever saw anyone enter the park, let alone be scouring through the bushes metres away from where he was crouched by a sewage grate!

His mind was whirring, even if his body remained as still as a statue. He knew he had to move, or the man was going to eventually spot him. But if he moved, he’d make a noise, and then the man would see him anyway. What was worse was that he was sat right by the entrance to the sewers, which could lead whoever it was into the heart of the resistance. He could try opening the grate and getting cover- but if he was seen, it would all be over.

No, he couldn’t risk his friends- his _family_ \- being discovered. Which meant his only option was to escape into the city and hide out until it was safe to go back. Carefully, he started to cover the grate with piles of dead leaves and twigs as a precaution, trying hard not to move too much or make any sound.

The man was getting closer towards the bush he was crouched behind, and now he had a torch in his hand, the beam cutting through the vegetation like a laser beam.

The sun had almost set, and the light was much dimmer, although it was still fading away rapidly. This was good though. The darkness would give Adam better cover.

Once the grate was well hidden, he began crawling as quickly as he could towards to his left, away from the direction the man was approaching from. He eyed the ground cautiously before he put his hands down, making sure he didn’t snap any twigs and give his position away.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from crying out when he accidently knelt on a spiky thorn. Unfortunately, a small squeak still made it past his lips, and he froze in terror, his heart pummelling against his chest so hard it hurt.

The rustling stopped, an Adam had to clamp a hand over his mouth to quieten his breaths, which were coming out in loud, harsh gasps. Everything fell silent.

It was only when he risked a glance behind him did the rustling start again. Seconds passed, and then a bright white light was being shone right in his face, blinding him.

Adam felt all the breath being sucked out of him as he stared up from where he was on his hands and knees, right into the face of an LAPD officer.

The man was definitely a member of the police force, the badge on his chest a dead giveaway. He was really tall, well over six foot, with greying curly hair and piercing azure blue eyes that locked onto his own.

The officer smiled. “Hello, Adam.”

* * *

 

The door opened suddenly and with a bang, causing all the boys to jump violently. Jesse jumped so hard he hit his head on the bunk above him.

“Jesus, Christina,” James exclaimed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah, _ow,_ ” Jesse added, touching his head daintily with the tips of his fingers, feeling for a lump where he knocked it.  

Mickey just looked at her curiously from where he lay on the floor between the two of them, a book in both hands.

Christina surveyed the scene briefly before shaking her head apologetically. “I’m sorry guys, but this is urgent. Have you seen Adam?”

James stared at her as if she was pulling his leg.

“Is this a joke?” Mickey asked before he could speak.

It was Christina’s turn to look surprised. “Er, no. Why would it be?”

“It’s just-“ Jesse began. “You do know, don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“About Adam?”

“What about Adam?”

“He ran away,” James cut in, sighing dramatically. “We thought Fred might’ve told you.”

Christina gaped. “No, I just got back from work. Why did- what? Why the fuck did he run away?! What happened?”

When her question was only met with silence, she narrowed her eyes, Jesse, James and Mickey all looking away quickly to avoid her scrutinous gaze. “Guys, what did you do?” she ground out.

“We fell out,” Jesse admitted.

“Well, actually, it was more James and Adam-“ Mickey interrupted.

“Mickey!” James cried in outrage.

“What?” Mickey said. “It’s true. James had a go at him and Adam got upset and ran off. End of story.”

“And you told Fred about this?” Christina asked, quickly moving over to collapse onto the end of James’s bunk, her knees suddenly weak with shock, her face a picture of distress.

“Of course we did,” Jesse said. “We know the rules. But I’m telling you, Christina, it was horrible. He was so pissed. We thought he was gonna bite our heads off.”

“Well, why hasn’t anyone gone after him?” Christina demanded, panic evident in her voice.

“It’s not like we can just go up there and start looking for him. He could be anywhere,” James explained tensely. “Besides, he dumped his phone before he went up into the sewers, so we can’t even call him or trace his cell.”

“Unbelievable!” Christina cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation as her temporary paralysis wore off. “You complete idiots! Do you know what you’ve done? How could you let him go? And… why did no one go after him? Oh, my god, you’ve fucked up. So. Badly.” She rested her head in her hands and began to cry.

All three boys could only stare at her as her small frame was racked with sobs. The tension in the room was almost unbearable.

“Christina?” Jesse asked tentatively. “What it is? What was so urgent?”

“They know!” Christina wailed. “They know about Adam.”

* * *

 

Blake couldn’t believe it. He’d spent all afternoon following the trail of blood that led from the warehouse. And it hadn’t been an easy task. The spots were so small some were barely even visible, and most likely came from a pretty harmless cut that Adam may not have even noticed. Lucky, his experience as an expert hunter and tracker had given him the ability to spot what most people couldn’t have.

After a long while, the trail had gone cold, which was when he had begun the tedious sweeping of the area, looking for any more clues. Anything that would give him an insight into Adam’s whereabouts, and hopefully the location of the resistance’s headquarters.

Gwen had called to tell him she’d ran the DNA through the national database, but she hadn’t found a match. After doing the facial reconstruction, it turned out that didn’t produce any results either. Although, she’d still sent him a picture to his phone of a young-looking male with hazel eyes, brown hair cropped short, and attractive features. The picture was similar to the blown-up partial image of Adam’s face from the street corner, but according to all the license cards she’d checked, no one called Adam within the area looked like that.

Which led Blake to believe that the Adam they were looking for may have been wiped from the system, or had never even been in the system to begin with. It had never even crossed his mind that some members of the resistance wouldn’t be disguised as members of the general population. Some might appear to not even exist in order to decrease their chances of getting caught. It was clever, and partly the reason the LAPD had never been able to find any DNA at crime scenes- bearing in mind the DNA might not belong to anyone that was registered.

Anyhow, it had been getting harder for Blake to look for clues as it grew later, the threat of curfew looming closer with every passing second. Even as an officer of the law, Blake didn’t have the privilege of being allowed out at night. He could still get arrested if he came across a patrol.

The park had been the last place he’d decided to check. He was so close, he knew it. Scrambling through the bushes, looking for some sort of secret door he knew probably wasn’t there, he’d wondered if he was becoming too irrational.

That was until he heard a distinctly human noise, and had shone his touch right into the face he’d been examining barely an hour ago on his phone screen.

It was definitely Adam; the likeness was uncanny. Adam- in the flesh- staring up at him from the ground with wide, terrified eyes.

It was a miracle- it was almost unbelievable. To have found the person you’d been looking for, and have them appear right at your feet. In the middle of some overgrown park shrubbery of all places. If Blake could have the urge to laugh, there was no doubt he’d be laughing right now.

“Hello, Adam,” he said, smiling.

Adam waited a beat before scrambling to his knees remarkably quickly. Blake didn’t hesitate either, launching himself forwards and knocking the much smaller man back to the ground. He had a feeling he might not be able to outrun him, so his best option was to use his strength to ensure his captive didn’t get away.

Adam let out a fearful cry as the back of his head smacked against an upturned root, gasping as Blake’s full weight pressed down on him with crushing force, knocking the air from his lungs.

He squirmed as Blake tried to flip him over, arms flailing. He managed to find purchase on Blake’s face, scratching his nails down his cheeks hard enough to draw blood. Blake yelled, pressing his own palm into Adam’s face, forcing him to turn his head sideways.

Adam coughed as soil filled his mouth, legs kicking upwards uselessly whilst they were pinned under Blake.

Blake drew his fist back and punched Adam between the eyes, knocking his head back once again. Adam went limp for a second as he lay on the ground, completely stunned, allowing Blake to quickly reach for his back pocket where he knew his handcuffs would be.

However, he hadn’t expected Adam to react so quickly to the momentary release of pressure. Before he could do anything, there was an elbow in his face and a shove to his ribcage that knocked him sideways and into a bush.

Adam sprang to his feet again beside him, kicking Blake in the stomach for good measure before stumbling away, panting loudly.

The pain was crippling, but Blake had learnt long ago how to ignore it, even when it was difficult to move. He rolled over onto his belly- gun already in his hands- aimed, and fired.

Adam let out what sounded like a sob when the bullet whizzed past him, but he kept going, wading through the shrubbery as if he was walking through thick mud. Blake fired again, and this time Adam dropped like a stone, thudding to the ground and sending leaves scattering.

Blake groaned as he stood, clutching his ribs, which he was sure were cracked. Adam had fought harder than he’d expected, attacking him without warning. And he was remarkably strong for a guy who was rather on the skinny side, although, that being said, not nearly as strong as Blake.

The distinct sound of a horn blowing brought the officer back to his senses, disrupting the evening quiet. His watch began beeping mere seconds later, alerting Blake it was time for his next Prozium dose. He reached into his jacket pocket deliberately slowly, drawing out the needle gun with gentle movements, so not to hurt his ribs.

When he saw the shards of glass falling from the now empty chamber, and the amber liquid dripping down onto his hand, he could only stare.

Never mind the fact he was breaking a rule by not taking Prozium provided by the LAPD, his one and only vial had broken. It must’ve been smashed in the fight with Adam, but that meant he’d missed a dosage. “No,” he muttered to himself. ”No, no, no…”

He ran to where Adam lay sprawled out a few meters away, blood soaking his clothes like a crimson monster, spreading at an alarming rate from his lower abdomen. His face was deathly pale, his brown eyes unfocused as Blake bent down to grab his arm.

“Get up,” he ordered sharply, heaving with all his might. “I have to get you to a doctor. I have to stop the bleeding. Don’t die, ok? Prozium, I need Prozium…” he trailed off, staring at his free hand, which was now sticky with blood. “I… Christ, I don’t know what to do. Adam, get up,” he shouted rather manically, hauling the younger man to his feet, expecting him to fully stand.

But Adam’s legs only buckled beneath him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fell against Blake’s chest, giving the taller man no option but to catch him.

“Adam?” Blake shook him roughly, but the younger man only flopped like a rag doll in his arms, totally unresponsive. Cursing, Blake looked up across the park: he could barely see anything now, the veil of night already down, shrouding them in an all too familiar darkness.

“I know I’ll… I’ll call my partner. I’ll call Stefani,” Blake babbled, not really talking to anyone in particular. He laid Adam back on the ground, pressing one hand to the bullet wound while using the other to fish his phone from his pocket.

His fingers were trembling as he typed in Gwen’s number, the symbols blurring together as his vision swam. He pressed call.

It only rang twice before he heard the click of the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Stefani?” he spoke into the microphone, his voice ragged. He felt strangely light, as if he wasn’t really present anymore. Was he dreaming? No, he couldn’t dream. He’d never dreamed before in his life.

No, this was real. And the world was tilting.

“Blake?”

What had he done? The blood was seeping through his fingers, sticky and wet.

“Blake?!”

What was happening to him? “Stefani… I need help,” he cried. 

Then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I posted yesterday, but I got carried away and thought I'd treat you with another chapter because why the hell not? My uploads are so erratic anyway... but I have to warn you, this is a one off. Safe to say I won't always post this quickly!
> 
> Now I know Blake and Adam kind of met in the last chapter, but I wouldn't say it was a proper meeting. I guess you'll just have to read on to see if they get to speak to each other this time around ;)

Running through the sewage tunnels was guaranteed to get you covered in gunk. Usually, James would’ve been careful to avoid stepping in the water, but for now he didn’t care, sloshing through the murky brown liquid until he emerged onto the slightly raised stone platform that ran alongside the river of waste.

He hauled himself up quickly, hands slipping slightly as they searched for purchase on the grimy surface. He almost lost his balance, but he managed to throw his weight forwards, rolling over onto the platform and scrabbling to his feet, setting off again at a run without a moment’s pause.

He wasn’t usually this clumsy, but his frantic mind was blocking the way for logical thinking. As he sprinted along the platform through the dank murk of the tunnel, he was still able to make out the subtle, tell-tale markings along the curved walls that were supposed to guide his way. Not that he needed to follow any signs- he and Adam had been down here so many times he knew the route back home off by heart.

Sure enough, in no time at all he was standing in front of the alcove covered in plastic sheeting, which he hastily drew back to reveal the hatch set into the ground. Hysterically, he banged his knuckles against the cold, hard metal, forgetting whatever rhythm he was supposed to be knocking.

“Open up, it’s me, James! Christina, are you there? For Christ’s sake open up!”

Suddenly the hatch door disappeared from sight as it swung open and downwards, revealing a ladder that descended into the darkened corridor below.

Christina poked her head out of the hole and stared up at James with wide, desperate eyes. “Anything?”

James hung his head, trying to slow his breathing. He felt his chest constricting, choking his words.

“Hey,” Christina said softly, although there was a tremor in her voice. She cupped her hands around James’s face, titling his head up to look at her. “James, breathe.”

“It’s…” James gasped. He shook his head in frustration, but Christina still clung on, stilling him once again.

She didn’t say a word, waiting patiently for him to speak.

“It’s bad, Christina,” he finally managed. He curled his hands into fists, pressing hard against the cold stone floor where he knelt. “It’s really, really bad.”

“What is it? What happened?”

“When… when I got up there. Oh, god.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck. I didn’t see anything. I just heard them. I didn’t dare go up there, but they hadn’t found it yet- the entrance to the tunnels. They didn’t see it.”

Christina moved her hands down to grip James’s shoulders firmly. “What are you trying to say?”

“The cops,” James yelled, his words coming thick and fast now. “The cops were there in the park. I heard what they were saying. Something about apprehending a Sense Offender in that very spot. A new officer on the force who started a couple of days ago found him, and… and he’d been investigating the resistance, and he was called in after they discovered Behati, you know, to assist on the case- and he shot him. And I think they were talking about Adam.”

“What? Adam’s dead?” Christina cried in alarm.

James shook his head again. “No. I heard the cops say that this new cop shot him, but he’s still alive. They took him to the hospital.”

“Oh god,” Christina moaned, fumbling her way back down the ladder, James following suit. As soon as his feet landed she pounced on him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly.

It wasn’t like Christina to get cuddly, but James hugged her back all the same. “We have to tell Fred right now,” he murmured into her hair. “We have to do something. We have to save him. He can’t have been taken that long ago. And he’s not in the police station yet. We still have time…”

Christina pulled back, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “Things are getting worse,” she wailed. “Behati? And now Adam? And the cops are about to find us. For fuck’s sake, they’re right outside. Holy shit, I-“ She halted, drawing out a crumpled piece of paper, wet eyes studying it forlornly. “I just… how did they know? We’re always so careful. So how could they? James, I don’t understand.”

James came up behind her, staring at the paper in disbelief. “I have no idea,” he said honestly. “But all I know is that I’m going to get my best friend back. I’m not letting him die. Come on.” He grabbed her hand. “We have to go.”

* * *

 

A constant pounding, like the steady beating of a drum. It took Blake a minute to realise it was his heart that was thudding so loudly in his ears. He blinked his eyes open to find himself lying in some sort of hospital bed, Gwen sat beside him.

“Welcome back,” she said with a smile.

Blake groaned, rubbing his eyes. His eyelids felt like weights, and he struggled to keep them open. “What happened?”

“You blacked out,” Gwen said. “You suffered a few minor injuries, but nothing that hasn’t already been fixed. The doctors said as soon as you woke up you were free to leave.”

Blake squinted at her. “What…” he started, but found that his throat was suddenly very dry, and he couldn’t force any more words out. Gulping, he tried again. “Why was I injured?” he asked, his voice still rough as sandpaper. 

“You don’t remember?” Gwen frowned. “Don’t worry, it’ll soon come back to you. I just can’t believe you actually did it.”

Blake propped himself up on his elbows, curiosity gnawing on his mind. “Did what?”

This time Gwen grinned at him. “You got Adam,” she said. “It’s really him. And you found him all by yourself. It means we’re that much closer to finding the resistance. This is really good news, Shelton.”

Blake couldn’t help the pang of worry that shot through him, but he wasn’t really sure what it meant. His forehead creased in concern. “What do you mean I got Adam? Where is he?”

“He’s in intensive care,” Gwen said. “You shot him, Shelton. But he’ll pull through. And once he’s healed enough we can take him back to the station for interrogation.” She patted his shoulder. “Nice job.”

“I…” Blake began, trailing off as the memories resurfaced, the haze enveloping his mind finally clearing. He remembered now. He remembered shooting Adam. The look of terror in those big brown eyes. “Is he ok?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Gwen stared at him. “Yes, he’s fine. I just told you.” She tilted her head in the way she seemed to every time she thought of something. For the first time, Blake thought the move seemed almost… robotic. “Shelton, you took your last dose of Prozium, didn’t you?”

Blake’s heart plummeted. _No, he hadn’t._ He recalled the vial being smashed… _his only vial_. Which meant he’d broken the law… He- he was a Sense Offender! That was probably why he had felt so strange- so weak- after the fight, why he’d passed out. Was he _feeling?_ Was this what it was like to feel things? He could recognise emotions on other people, sure, but when the emotion was within him? He had no idea what to expect- or what to do.

“Shelton?” Gwen asked again, drumming her fingers against the gun on her belt, the sound unreasonably loud in Blake’s ears.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his face blank- void of feeling. “Yes,” he lied. “I did. I’m sure of it. I’m sorry, I just feel a little light headed.”

Gwen smiled, although she didn’t look entirely convinced. “Well, ok then…”

“Stefani?” Blake asked.

“Yes?”

“Please may I have some time alone? I need a moment to collect my thoughts.”

Gwen opened and closed her mouth, but stood up all the same. He could tell she hadn’t been expecting him to say something like that. “Sure…” she said, after a pause. “I’ll be in the car outside.”

As soon as she was gone, Blake immediately dropped his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe it- he was a Sense Offender. He felt… _terrible_. And he had just lied to his partner about it, who also happened to be an officer of the law. _What was he thinking?_ And the worst part about it was he didn’t even want to take more Prozium to correct his mistake.

Emotion… it was like a drug he’d been craving his whole life. An addiction he hadn’t known was there until it had been satisfied. This was why Sense Offenders never wanted to go back to the way they were before. He understood now. He knew what he was doing was supposed to be wrong but… it wasn’t. How could it be? It didn’t feel wrong. It felt right.

He could fight it. It would be so easy to take another dose, go back to the way things were before: they probably had tons of Prozium vials stored somewhere in the hospital. But he knew he wouldn’t take it. He didn’t want to.

There was no going back now.

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for Blake to find where Adam was being kept. The doctors had probably wanted the prisoner close by, because it turned out he was only a few doors down from Blake’s hospital room. There was a guard posted outside, but all Blake had to do was flash his badge to get in, being of a higher authority. The guard even congratulated him on ‘the big arrest’, which only served to make him feel worse.

The feelings he was experiencing were crippling- having never experienced them before, they were flooding his whole being in an onslaught, commanding his actions irrefutably. He couldn’t have stopped himself entering that hospital room even if he’d wanted to, although that definitely wasn’t the case. He _did_ want to see Adam.

When he finally entered the room, closing the door behind him, all he could do was stare, his stomach in turmoil. Adam was lying unconscious in a bed in the centre of the room, which was a small, dingy space, a single barred window offering the only source of light. Multiple wires were stuck to his chest, poking out the top of his hospital gown and hooking him to various complicated-looking machines beside the bed, including a heart monitor. There was also a tube taped to his left forearm that connected to an IV drip on his opposite side. There was an oxygen mask over his mouth, and there were restraints around both his wrists and ankles.

Blake was fascinated by the sight that lay before him. The slight rise and fall of Adam’s chest as he breathed in and out, the way his eyelids fluttered slightly with every exhale, the methodical beeping of the monitor. The poor man was ashen- white as a sheet, and he looked so helpless and small lying there amidst all the equipment that towered over him, his face covered in cuts and bruises from the other night. Blake wondered how he ever could’ve harmed such a picture of innocence. But then he remembered that Adam was a Sense Offender- a member of the resistance… a terrorist. Blake was an LAPD officer, and he’d being doing his duty by apprehending a criminal. Adam might’ve got away if he hadn’t shot him.

But still, the thought of it was making him feel sick. A wave of dizziness caused him to sway on his feet, and quickly- without thinking- he staggered over to perch on the end of the bed. The extra weight on the mattress and the sudden movement seemed to wake Adam, his eyes flickering open as soon as Blake sat down.

His gaze was confused and unfocused for a second before he spotted Blake, hazel eyes widening. The beeping on the heart monitor spiked as Adam tried to pull away, only then realising he couldn’t go anywhere whilst he was shackled to the bed. He drew in a ragged breath, eyeing Blake warily.

“I’m…” Blake began, deciding that now would be a good time to speak. But what could he say to someone he had recently shot? Who also probably hated his guts? “I’m sorry,” he finished lamely.

Adam merely stared at him (he couldn’t speak anyway because of the oxygen mask) with a highly unconvinced expression on his face. 

Blake twiddled his thumbs. He recognised the symptoms immediately: fiddling, stuttering, hesitation. He was feeling shy.  “Um…” He looked down at his hands. “I can remove that if you want,” he said with a shrug, pointing to the mask.

Adam didn’t make any indications, so Blake- on instinct- proceeded to lean forwards and remove it. Adam flinched slightly as he pulled the mask down, but he didn’t attempt to move away or stop Blake from doing it.

“I really am sorry,” Blake said, looking away again. After another round of silence, curiosity got the better of him, and his eyes trailed once again towards Adam, who was still looking at him.

Blake realised he had no idea what Adam was feeling- his expression was, for once, unreadable. “That’s kind of creepy,” he said after a while. “You staring at me like that. Forgotten how to talk?”

Adam raised an eyebrow, and Blake was finally able to identify the expression of disbelief. “No,” Adam said slowly, licking his lips, testing his voice. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“I said I was sorry,” Blake offered.

Adam glared then. “You _shot me,_ ” he explained incredulously.

“Well, you’re still alive, aren’t you?” Blake said.

Adam turned his head away, a sadness washing over him. “I might as well be dead,” he muttered.

Blake cringed. What could he say to that? Adam was right- it was highly likely he was going to die, now that he’d been captured. It was just a matter of time. “You know,” he said, looking upwards as if he would miraculously get some guidance from the ceiling, “they’ll interrogate you first, before the execution. They’ll want to know everything about the resistance, and it will be easier for you if you just tell them.”

Adam let out a short laugh. “Yeah… I don’t think so. I’m never telling you motherfuckers anything. At least when I die I’ll die knowing I never betrayed what I stood for.”

Blake sighed. “They’ll torture it out of you. I’ve never done an interrogation, that’s not what I do, but I know they always get it out of you in the end. No matter how much you resist.”

“Well, you don’t know what I’m like,” Adam spat, eyes suddenly flashing with anger. “In fact, you don’t know me at all. There’s no way I’d tell a fucking robot anything.”

Blake snorted. “What about your girlfriend, Audrey? I’m sure she was just as passionate as you, but that didn’t stop her from giving you up. How do you think I knew your name?”

Adam’s eyes widened. “That’s not true,” he stuttered, all his anger fading in an instant. “She wouldn’t do that…”

“I’m afraid she did,” Blake said. “But… It took a long time. She wasn’t willing- she was a fighter. It was only when she couldn’t take anymore, when she finally broke.”

Adam’s eyes were filling with tears that he was desperately trying to reign in. He lifted is chin, an attempt to remain impassive. “Why are you telling me this?” he demanded through gritted teeth, his voice cracking.

Blake sighed, looking down again. “I don’t know… I just… wanted to warn you about it. Prepare you for what’s to come.”

“Why would you care?” Adam asked, although the question sounded more like an accusation.

“I- I don’t _know_ ,” Blake repeated, suddenly feeling rather frustrated. He didn’t know if his anger was directed towards Adam or himself, or both. “I was only trying to help.”

“Well, don’t,” Adam snarled. “You can’t help me! You _did this to me._ How the fuck is that helping me?” He yanked hard against his restraints. “You’ve fucking sentenced me to death.”

Blake hung his head. Adam was right- this was his fault. If only he could turn back time, stop himself from ever pulling that trigger. But it was too late. It was his mess, and it was his duty to fix it. “What if I helped you escape?” he blurted.

Adam stared. “ _What?”_

Blake looked Adam straight in the eye. “You heard me.”

“What do you… I mean, how…” he spluttered. “Why?!”

Blake scratched his head. “I said I wanted to help you.”

Adam shook his head in amazement. “But… why? Why would you want to help me? You’re _a robot_. You don’t care about anything.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait, is this a trick? Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, of course not!”

Adam laughed hollowly. “I bet this is all some sick ploy to try and get me to confess, isn’t it? In fact, I-”

Blake reached forwards and grabbed his arm, causing Adam to freeze, the words dying in his throat. “No, Adam, I swear to you- this is no trick. I’m being serious.”

“No, you’re not. How could you be? You’re a robot _._ ”

Blake sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping. He might as well admit it. Saying out loud might make it more real. He’d only been feeling since he woke up and yet he was ready to spill his guts to a criminal. “I’m not a robot,” he confessed. “I’m…” he gulped. “I’m like you… I’m a Sense Offender.”

He kept looking down, but he could feel Adam’s eyes on him, the heat from his gaze like lasers drilling into his skull.

It was a long time before Adam finally spoke. “Well, if you’re lying to me, you’re a damn good actor.”

Blake looked up, suddenly desperate. For some reason, he wanted- no, he needed Adam to believe him. “I’m not lying to you, I swear. Please believe me, _please_.”

Adam’s gaze flickered down to his arm, that Blake was still holding on to without realising it. He pulled away hurriedly, his cheeks reddening.

Adam bit his lip. “I… I believe you,” he admitted. “But… how?”

“My vial. It smashed when I was trying to arrest you,” Blake explained. “I didn’t take any Prozium.”

“Wait, you only missed one dose?” Adam asked in surprise.

Blake shrugged. “Turns out that’s all it took. It’s… amazing. I feel… well, I feel everything. For the first time, I feel truly alive. Is… is this really what it’s like for you?”

“Yes, since birth actually,” Adam said. “I’ve always had my emotions. Without them, I’d be lost. I wouldn’t be me. I mean, your emotions are what shape your personality. Otherwise you’re just a shell of a person, and the person is not really there. You look like you, but you’re hollow inside, if you know what I mean. Some of my friends… they used to take Prozium. They said that when they stopped… it was like waking up from a dream they’d been living their whole lives. They said it was like they were robots, programmed to follow orders, without the capacity to question them. They weren’t human, because humans have the ability to distinguish between right and wrong and good and evil… Humans can form relationships because they are able to feel. Robots can’t do any of that.”

Blake nodded, stunned. His head felt like it was going to burst from all the new information. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re completely right.” This whole time, he hadn’t been living- he’d merely been existing. Growing up, going through school, getting a job- in a world where nobody cared about anything. He’d been living a lie, his actions based on what was required of him. Never because he wanted to do it. He’d always made a decision based on logic, and never by following his heart. Until now.

“It always amazes me,” Adam continued, breaking Blake from his thoughts. “How quickly you _realise._ Once you stop taking the Prozium, you feel whole. It’s human nature to feel, I mean, it’s part of your DNA. But you suppress it with drugs.” For the first time, he grinned at Blake, although the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh, crazy,” Blake murmured, still dumbfounded by this revelation. No wonder it felt right, if it was in his DNA. It was something he’d never been taught, but he supposed it made sense, considering that, without Prozium, you would revert back to the way you were supposed to be.

The thing was, he’d always been told emotion was wrong because it was the cause of World War III. _Animi causa tanti belli et iniquitas…_ It was emotion behind all the violence and the killing, people driven by their anger and hatred for one another. But he supposed the real cause of war was more the personalities shaped by emotion, and the personal experiences, rather than the emotions themselves.

“So,” Adam said, tugging on his restraints. “Are you gonna help me escape, or what?”

Blake smiled, a proper, meaningful smile this time. “Definitely.”

“Even if you don’t know anything about me?” Adam questioned, a little hesitantly, still unsure.

Blake laughed. His first real laugh. “It’s the least I can do after shooting you,” he said. “Besides, you’ve opened my eyes. And… I trust you.”

Adam snorted. “Really? You trust me? You’ve known me, like, five minutes. Even I wouldn’t trust me.”

“Well I do. Do you trust me?” Blake asked.

Adam’s reply was instantaneous. “Not really.”

"Er... I guess that's fair enough. But I’m purely following my instincts. It’s like my gut’s telling me to trust you,” Blake said. He didn’t really understand much at the moment- it was all new to him. But what he did know, was that all he wanted right now was to help Adam. Deep down, something was telling him that he had to help him escape.

“Ok, then… how are we gonna do this?” Adam asked, squirming where he lay. “We have to be quick, someone could walk in any moment.”

“Adam, calm down,” Blake said, laying a hand on his arm, making sure to be more gentle this time. “I know you want to get out of here, but we have to be careful. Besides, I have a plan.”

“Any chance you’re going to share this plan with me?” Adam asked, still agitated.

Blake held up a hand for silence. “I’m telling you right now. I’m going to go back to my room-“

“What? You’re going to leave me?” Adam interrupted, panicked.

“Adam, would you let me finish? Or we’re never going to get out of here,” Blake chided, earning him a quick and slightly mumbled apology.

“Go on,” Adam insisted.

“Ok,” Blake said, giving him a disapproving look as he continued. “I’m going to go find my partner. I’ll get rid of her somehow, then I’ll come back and dismiss the guard. Next, I’m going to escort you to my car like I would a normal prisoner, then we’ll figure it out from there. Ok?”

Adam nodded. “Ok,” he agreed, although he didn’t sound sure at all.

“Alright then,” Blake said, standing up. “Wait here.” He walked over to the door, placing his hand on the door knob.

“Seriously?” Adam called from behind him. “ _Wait here?_ The only thing I can do is wait here, dickhead.”

Blake chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

* * *

 

Carson Daly had been a guard on the force for over two decades now. Not once had he ever received a promotion, nor had one ever been mentioned to him before. Of course, he didn’t mind. Why would he? It was his job- his duty to the law. And he was proud to serve in any way he was capable.

The prisoner in the room he was guarding- Adam, they had called him- had been a feisty one. During his operation, Cason had been in the theatre with the doctors as a precaution, which it turns out had been necessary. They’d begun operating straight away- the prisoner’s rapidly deteriorating condition had meant there was no time for the anaesthetist to put him under anaesthetic. Besides, he was out cold and barely responsive, and no one had expected him to wake up.

But by some miracle he had woken, and before Carson could react he’d already floored one doctor, his arms flailing madly as he fought against the rest of them, stomach still bleeding profusely from the open bullet wound. He’d managed to sit up, rip all the tubing from his arms and grab some sort of thin blade that was glinting menacingly under the lights.

It was at that moment Carson realised he had to move- to stop things getting out of hand. He’d surged forwards as Adam slid down off the metal slab he’d been lying on to land unsteadily on his feet, brandishing the blade menacingly, his face shiny with sweat.

As Carson advanced the prisoner had actually taken a swipe at him, the sharp knife-like tool coming dangerously close to his face. Luckily, at that moment one of the doctors had come to their senses and quickly stuck a needle in his neck, sedating him instantly.

Nevertheless, considering his situation, the escape attempt had been remarkable. Carson had never seen anything like it.

“Is he awake yet, officer?” the guard queried as Blake stepped back out of the room and into the corridor.

“Yes,” Blake said, closing the door behind him before Carson had a chance to peek in. “And doing really well, despite just being shot. And don’t worry, he’s too heavily sedated to cause any trouble- I made sure of that. In fact, I was thinking of transferring him back to the station immediately.”

“Really?” Carson said. “Because the doctors said-“

“I know what the doctors said, but wouldn’t it be better if he recovered in a place where there was less chance of him escaping? We have everything he would need over there, including medical equipment.”

Carson nodded. It wasn’t like he could really argue anyway. Blake was the one in charge here. “If you’re sure it’s the right decision, then I’ll arrange for him to be transported back with you.”

“Oh, no need for any of that,” Blake insisted. “I can take him no problem. In fact, I think I’ll go and notify the doctors right now. Wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Carson stared after Blake as he marched off without another word, long legs eating up the floor as he disappeared down the corridor with remarkable pace. As soon as he had disappeared, the guard quickly pulled out his phone, hitting the first number on speed dial and bringing the device up to his ear. If he didn’t know better, he would say something was definitely off about that officer. He may just be a low-ranking guard, but that wasn’t going to stop him from making sure there wasn’t a problem. And he knew the perfect man for the job.

* * *

 

“Where have you been?” Gwen demanded when he walked back into his own room to get his things. “I’ve been waiting ages, so I come back to check up on you and you’re gone? Care to explain?”

Blake stared at her wide eyed as she gave him a meaningful look, arms folded. He hadn’t realised he’d been talking to Adam for so long, and he wasn’t prepared for a confrontation with his partner. But he had to think of something.

“Can’t a man get up to go to the bathroom?” Blake countered in an attempt to answer the question without directly lying. He’d already been feeling lots of guilt today- and it was the worst emotion yet. Hopefully staying as honest as possible when explaining things to his partner would keep the guilt at bay.

Gwen hooked her thumbs into her belt that hung low on her waist. “You said you wanted a moment alone. You could have just said you needed the bathroom,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“My bad,” Blake said, offering up a smile.

To his relief, his partner smiled back. “Ok, so are you ready to get going? You can tell me how you did it on the way over to the station. I’m dying to know.”

Blake rubbed his forehead, mainly in attempt to cover his eyes which he was sure looked rather panicky. The last thing he needed was Gwen realising he was a Sense Offender, and the eyes were always the biggest giveaway. “Actually, Stefani, I’m not feeling very well. I might stay behind and get some prescriptions, but you should go on ahead. I’ll meet you back at the station in a bit, I mean… we have a lot to discuss.”

“That we do,” Gwen nodded, finally moving from her stance in the centre of the room towards Blake. She paused by his side to briefly pat him on the shoulder. “Hope you’re feeling better soon, Shelton. See you in a bit.”

Blake gaped after her in silence, surprised she hadn’t questioned him further. After all, she was an interrogator. Was he really that believable?

He smirked to himself.

Miraculously, his impulse plan was working. The only thing left to do now was the hardest part- extracting Adam.


End file.
